It's The Taking Part
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Set just after episode 2x09 ‘Out Of Their Minds’. Moya’s safe, everyone’s fine: John’s bored out of his head. Sometimes staying out of trouble is more difficult when it’s actually possible. Rated T for language/s. Canonically shiptastic!
1. My Dren's Frelled Up

_Author's Note:_

_My first Farscape story ever. There may be more._

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**ONE**

**My Dren's Frelled Up**

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It was peaceful, relaxing, warm and…

Aeryn opened an eye in suspicion.

_Was that a sound?_

She waited. Nothing.

She closed her eye again and let herself relax into the warm, soft sheets.

_Where was I? Oh, right, peaceful, relaxing… Got it._

It was green and bright, sunny and cheerful. There were happy sounds of children, Sebaceans, running and playing, too young to be drafted, too young to know what their parents actually did, not being here.

A shadow passed over the sun. She concentrated, trying to stop the dark thoughts of Peacekeepers and--

The sunshine was gone. The happy sounds stopped.

She huffed.

_This 'dreaming' thing is stupid_, she decided. _It's all Crichton's fault. 'Dreaming's fun, Aeryn',_ she scoffed. '_Dreaming's all about getting what you want while you're asleep, cos you never get it while you're not_.'

She turned onto her back and threw her arms over her head, banging them into the headboard.

_Ignorant human,_ she managed. _Ignorant, arrogant, thick-headed, crazy… Weird… quirky… funny… kind of… pleasant to have around when he's smiling… Gah!_

She shook her head clear and turned onto her right, curling up slightly.

A huge huff strapped on its armour and grabbed up its sword, ready for battle. It saw the legions of Aeryn's will standing in its way but drew itself up. It stepped forward and battle was joined - the will to forestall the huff against the angry might of the huff itself. The fight raged, bloody and loud, her will torn and slashed left and right. The huff stood alone, victorious, and let out a huge bellow of vindication.

Then it turned toward the exit and threw itself at the portal, bellowing still.

The monstrous huff escaped her nose and Aeryn tutted at her loss of self control. Linking it with the fact that she was trying not to think about the annoying - amusing - _annoying_ human at the time, she realised a pattern was forming.

_Human = loss of self control. Must do something about that._ She curled herself up a little tighter. _While I'm awake. Why can't I just get back to sleep?_

Her eyes snapped open. Without thinking she lurched for the bedside table. She snatched up the pulse pistol. She turned and her straight arm had it pointed in the direction of the sound she _knew_ she had definitely heard a second time.

She stared. She thought for a second. She let her arm go limp and dropped the gun to the bedspread beside her.

In the wide open space of her room, on the slightly dusty, slightly scuffed, slightly used, slightly dirty floor, was a slightly unshaven, slightly rumpled, slightly used, slightly abused, slightly battered but wholly asleep human.

Wearing nothing but bright white underwear. And large black Peacekeeper boots, the laces sprawling every which way, the tongues hanging out as if they, too, were affected by whatever had struck the human down.

She stared for a long moment, wondering how and why he was lying spread-eagled on his back as if he had dropped from a great height. And why he was asleep. In her personal space.

She cleared her throat.

"Crichton," she called, annoyed.

The human didn't even flinch.

"Crichton!"

He mumbled something, but other than that, appeared too deeply occupied by sleeping to actually hear her.

She tossed her loose hair over her shoulder, left the pulse pistol on the bed, and climbed out. She stomped over - no mean feat, considering her lack of shoes - and stood over him, hands on her hips, glare in place.

"Crichton. How did you get in here?" she demanded.

No response.

She let her head tilt and her eyes run over him.

"No blood," she noted. "No obvious signs of… injury."

She drew her eyes back up to his face quickly, taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders.

Then she lifted her foot, pulled it back, and, perhaps a little roughly, pushed the heel into his ribs.

The effect was instantaneous.

"Whoa! Hey!" came the slurred, indignant shock.

John tried to roll to his left, away from her, but he seemed to be having muscle control problems. He grumbled something but had to give up and fall on his back again.

"Crichton!" she barked.

The human blinked and struggled with something inside his head. A hand came up, she guessed on course to wipe his face, but it smacked into his eyes instead.

"Ow! Somebody - somebody hit me!" he raged, his voice thick with confusion and outrage.

"This is all very amusing," she began, then stopped. _Yes, it is amusing. Because he's hitting himself in the head and doesn't even know it. He must be intoxicated._ "Crichton, what are you doing here?"

"_Nguuuuh_… I feel like the floor of a taxi cab…"

"Crichton!" she snapped.

"Huh?"

"Listen to me very carefully." She stared down at him, watching his eyes - which seemed extremely red just now - blink and then swivel to fasten on her.

"Aeryn?" he croaked. Then he looked around blearily, apparently finding his situation enough in order to cease worrying. He looked back up at her.

"_What. The_. _Frell_," she said clearly, bending over slightly to make sure he knew he was being pinned with the sharpest glare she had, "are you doing on my floor?"

He stared back into the large, blue - _beautiful - no, no, blue, dammit!_ - eyes, assessing his next words very carefully, rightly judging that, should they come out wrong, they would also be his last.

"That," he managed, his voice creaky with abuse, "is a long story."

Aeryn bent down and put her hands out, grabbing at his wrists.

"Get up," she tutted.

He pulled at his wrists, waving his hands free.

"Get offa me," he managed. "I can do it."

She stood back, folding her arms and watching. "Then amaze me."

He stared up at her for a long second, and she wondered if it was anger or indignation on his face. He huffed and pushed his elbows under him, hiking himself up to look around the room slowly.

"Any time today," she managed, ice clinging to her voice.

"Alright, slow your roll, I'm - workin' on - waking up," he protested.

"I can see that," she blinked, surprised.

He looked up at her and realised her gaze was not on his face, but rather his underwear. He looked down quickly.

"Ho! Now--" he managed, jumping slightly.

He slapped a hand over the front of his shorts to somehow deflect her sharp eyes from making the lines of them any more obvious and rolled to his left, hoping some of his back would block out the sight. He cleared his throat, pushing at the floor with his left elbow to try and get up.

He managed it halfway before his knee gave. She rushed into him, holding him up with an arm round his back and the other hand up under his arm.

"Heh," he managed weakly, making sure he avoided her gaze. "It's - er - not me," he added, flicking his eyes down and up again. "It er… it kind of does that."

"Really," she said scathingly, her arm round his back trying to take some of his weight.

"Yeah - er - mornings," he bit out. "It's not like - it's not, well, cos you're here--"

"Crichton, I don't care. It's not the first time I've seen you in your skivvies, and as I am doomed to live a cursed life I doubt very much that it'll be the last. Now stand up," she commanded.

"I am!"

"By yourself."

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder," she ordered, hefting him upwards.

He managed to get his feet under him but as she lifted her hands free she could feel him sliding downwards. She tutted and grabbed at him again, and his left arm landed over her shoulder, bolstering him somewhat.

She looked at him, their faces inches apart.

"Thanks," he managed. "My leg's gone kind of dead."

"Leg or brain?" she scoffed.

"Should I come back later?" came a chuckle from the door.

Human and Sebacean turned and looked to see a Nebari sticking her head through one of the gaps in the obstruction.

"Cos I mean, if you're in the middle of sex, I can wait," Chiana added with a wide grin.

Human and Sebacean opened their mouths at the same time: "Chiana--"

"Alright, ok, I'm going," she grumped.

"No, Chiana, you can help us," Aeryn said quickly.

"Really?" she gasped, a delightful grin lighting up her playful face. "Well, you know, I had this dream, but it was me and - and - Crichton - and - and - D'Argo," she admitted, pulling her head free. "But hey, three's three."

"That's not what she means," John growled. "Get over here and keep me standing."

"Looks like Aeryn's already got you standing," she bubbled.

John looked down again. Then he let his head roll back on his neck in mortification even as Chiana pressed at the opener. The door fanned open and she bounced in, coming to a stop by John's arm.

"Which bit goes where?" she asked with marked enthusiasm.

"Take an arm," John sighed.

Chiana slid up under his free shoulder, lifting upwards. "So what gives?" she asked, following as Aeryn helped him limp to the bed. "Did I miss the sex? Did she wear you out?"

"Pip, shut up," John bit out sharply, and the Nebari giggled saucily.

"Why has your face gone red?" she teased.

"Drop me."

Chiana let go and he collapsed to the bed underneath, barely able to sit up.

Aeryn released her hold on him and the two girls stood back, shoulder to shoulder. Chiana let her head tilt as she studied him, a cheeky smile on her face. Aeryn folded her arms, widening her stance and looking him up and down with precision.

"Start at the beginning," the taller woman ordered.

"Now?" John moaned, wiping his hands over his face. "I've got like the biggest, nastiest hangover from Hell and you want me to explain--"

"What's a hand-over?" Chiana asked. She put her hand out, pointing to his shorts. "That?"

Rightly judging that there was no further way he could be humiliated any more, John's hands dropped from his face and he fell over backwards, his arms out wide.

"A _hangover_ is when you suffer from the withdrawal of alcohol after bingeing on it," he grumped. "Now leave me alone."

"No," Aeryn stated clearly. "You get off my bed and back to your own room."

"I can't," he moaned.

"Why not?" she asked suspiciously.

"Rygel won't let me in."

"Why not?" Chiana gasped. "Kick the little dridgenaught in the mivonks and take your room back!"

"It's not as simple as that," John muttered.

"Why not?" the girls said together.

"I think D'Argo is going to want to kill me."

"What?" Chiana chirped.

Aeryn looked at Chiana, then back at the human who was slowly slip-sliding back to sleep. "I can tell we could all be here some time," she sighed. She looked down at Chiana. "I think we need chairs."

"You need some clothes," Chiana grinned, pushing at Aeryn's shoulder.

It was then that former Officer Sun realised she was standing in a small, strappy black top and matching briefs. She sighed, let her shoulders sag, and turned to her pile of clothes on the far chair.

Chiana bounced up and onto the bed, kneeling by John's head and bubbling with laughter. She put her hands either side of his head and peered down at him, upside down.

"Are you dying?" she grinned, bouncing her hands to make his head wobble.

"Don't do that," he groused.

"So you _are_ dying," she judged. "Can I have your stuff?"

"Don't _do_ that!"

She bounced and bounced, until she noticed a funny shade steal over his face.

"Hey. I thought hoomans were kind of… pinky brown," she observed.

Aeryn pulled on her trousers and a leather waistcoat, picking up the chair and carrying it over to the bed.

"Apparently," she said. "Unless he's the only one of his kind like that."

"Then why does his face look sort of… white. No, green. White-green," she havered.

"Cos he's going to _barf_ if you keep _shaking him_!" John threatened.

Chiana jumped back slightly, resting back on her heels and watching him carefully.

"Uhm, ok," she said quickly, looking up at Aeryn. "You - ah - question him," she added, waving a hand at the man airily.

Aeryn set down the chair and sat in it with a heaviness born of resignation and irritation.

"Right," she announced, leaning over and slapping the human's knee harshly. "Crichton. Hey! Crichton!" she snapped, this time making a fist and hammering it down into his kneecap.

"Ow!"

"Now I have your attention," she said sweetly, "start at the beginning. And make it good."

"Ok, Aeryn - you asked for it," he wheezed. "It goes something like this…"

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* * *

_Title taken from Warren Zevon's song 'My Sh*t's F*cked Up':_

'_Well, I went to the doctor. I said, "I'm feeling kind of rough." He said, "I'll break it to you, son - your sh*t's f*cked up."'_


	2. Johnny Needs A Shooter

**TWO**

**Johnny Needs A Shooter**

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John whistled to himself, sliding the chakkan oil cartridge out of the pulse pistol and setting it on the workbench in front of him.

"I ain't saying I'm not grateful for the break in all the craziness. What I _am_ saying is, it's freaky that we haven't bumped into anyone or anything trying to kill us in two weeks," he said, ostensibly to the DRD watching him from six feet away.

He paused, studying the pistol idly.

"It makes me uncomfortable, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, or something."

The DRD waved its lights at him, squeaking.

"Whatever. So here's me, finding things to do. You know what they sat about idle hands," the human mused. Then he smiled suddenly. "But I got me an idea that not all pistols are made equal," he added. "I got me an idea that I should maybe take one of these things and pimp it a little so it's more like my own personal--"

He froze, blinked, and listened.

"Can you hear water?" he whispered, turning his head to watch the DRD.

The two lighted antenna waved around and it began chirping. John watched it, blinked, then shook his head.

He turned on the stool, sweeping his eyes around the room. He paused as he heard another definite slap of liquid coming from somewhere. He turned back to the DRD.

"Ok Lassie, go find where the drips are landing."

The DRD turned uncertainly, retreating a few inches before wobbling both lights.

"Go on, girl, go!" John urged, clapping his hands and making shooing gestures at it.

The DRD reversed right up and disappeared over the edge of the desk, gliding down the concave leg and twittering its way across the smooth floor.

John got up, walking to the middle of the room and listening intently.

"There," he snapped, turning to his right. "Somewhere…" He crept over, hands out as if to keep balance, stepping silently closer to the bed.

The DRD suddenly shot forwards and disappeared under said piece of furniture.

"What are you doing?" John sighed. "You're supposed to be--"

The tiny repair drone reappeared, waving lights at him and squeaking fit to burst.

"So it's coming from under the bed? What is it, the boogeyman's nose dripping?"

He crouched down and then put his hands to the floor, lying on his front. He lifted the edge of the blanket hanging in front of his face and looked under.

"Hey, Lassie. Let there be light," he called.

The DRD whizzed back underneath, illuminating the space and showing a sizeable pool of liquid under the centre of the bed. John whistled in appreciation.

"So," he asked the DRD, "how and why did I get Lake Marion under there?"

The DRD reversed out slowly, but John squeezed under, reaching a hand out and dipping his finger in the liquid.

"It's warm," he observed, sliding out from under the bed and looking at the dark green wetness on his digit. He sniffed it, then shrugged and licked it. "Hoo-wee!" he coughed, shaking his head and pushing himself to sit up. "If that ain't alcohol-based, I really have been without Budweiser too long." He turned and looked at the DRD. "Lassie - collect me as much as you can," he grinned.

The DRD reversed an inch before whipping from side to side. Then it rushed back under the bed.

John sat back on his heels, putting his hands on his legs and leaning on them.

"I got me a _new_ idea," he grinned, hearing the DRD hard at work.

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* * *

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John hefted the three-foot barrel in his arms, whistling jauntily as he paused at the threshold to the aircraft hangar sized room Zhaan used for experiments. He whistled more loudly, hoping to attract attention.

After a few more bars he stopped to listen.

"Hey, Blue?" he called, poking his head in. "You in here?"

He scanned the room steadily before judging it empty of the Delvian and walking in. Humming with gusto, he set the barrel on the high bench and stood back, thinking. A DRD rolled up behind him and waited.

"So Lassie," John said with a grin, "the sixty four thousand dollar question: How do we turn this into something drinkable that's not going to burn right through everyone's stomach linings?"

The DRD reversed with a squeal and manoeuvred round his feet, aiming for the arched leg of the bench. It struggled up the incline and raced along the surface, lights waving freely.

"Ok, so… welcome to Moonshine One Oh One," John nodded, putting his hands on his hips and thinking. "Uh… I think we need… Pilot." He cleared his throat. "Pilot?" he called hopefully.

"Yes, Commander," the disembodied voice replied. "Do you need something?"

"Ah, yep. Can you analyse the sample that Lassie the DRD took of the stuff from under my bed?"

"The… stuff… from under your bed?" Pilot echoed, apparently lost.

"Yeah. I'm talking about the liquid, not any skin magazines you may have found," John said. He paused. "Do you even _have_ porno mags in this weirdo galaxy?" he asked himself.

"Ah yes. The DRD extracted some huttsan livvah fluid. It appears to be leaking from a faulty relay in the decking beneath your room, soaking in. This in turn is dripping on your bed."

"From the underside?" John asked. "I've got the Hudson River dripping _up_?"

"_Huttsan livvah_ fluid, Commander. It can act a lot like a solid, even though it is not one. It moves in response to pressure, rather than obey the usual laws imposed by Moya's artificial gravity."

"Right… So, it's like non-Newtonian flow Hallowe'en custard snot. Thanks," John allowed with a grimace. "What does this stuff do?"

"It is part of Moya's cushioning system," Pilot replied easily. "It smoothes the wear between contact points on any moving part. She needs it to keep everything moving in balance."

"It's sinovial fluid?" he guessed. "Right. If I weren't so in need of liquor, that thought would put me right off."

"Right off what, Commander?"

John thought about his answer carefully. "Moya's ok, right?"

"She is. And she thanks you for drawing attention to the leak. I have DRDs sealing it up right now."

"That's good," John rattled off. "But the stuff I collected - does she want it back?"

"She does not, Commander. She has lost only a small percentage of what she needs, and is capable of producing more over time. She is in no danger and in a matter of solar days will have generated enough replacement fluid," Pilot said happily. "Once again, she thanks you for alerting us to the problem."

"Hey, it's fine," John shrugged. "So… this barrel of Hudson River I've got right here - can I do anything I want with it?"

"You may dispose of it as you see fit," Pilot agreed. "There is a waste receptacle not far from your quarters."

"Yeah, I know," John grinned. "And it _will_ end up there eventually, just not in the state it is now."

"You wish to experiment on it?" Pilot ventured, surprise in his tone.

"Yup," John agreed, putting his hands on the barrel and prizing the lid off. "Experiment. Distil. Ferment. Drink. Not necessarily in that order."

"You wish to… drink it?"

"As I said, not in the state it's in now," John added. "Needs a little jiggery-pokery first. But when I'm done - it'll be Miller Time. Everyone gets a skin - you included, Pilot."

"A skin?"

"A drink," John nodded, peering in the barrel and sniffing. "I may need to dilute this… like… one part per million," he snorted, waving his hand over the hole.

"What are you up to?" came a grouchy voice.

John didn't even look away from the barrel.

"Hey, Sparky. I'm cooking up ways to dissolve the locking mechanism on your secret floor safe," he drawled.

"Not funny, Crichton."

The sound of the little chair whizzed up behind the human and John turned to find the Hynerian watching him with abject suspicion.

"What's in that barrel?" Rygel asked slowly.

"What's it to you?"

"If you're making something edible, maybe I can help," he oiled.

"Help how?"

"I've got tools," Rygel winked.

"You keep your 'tools' to yourself," John sniffed. "I'm going to need a large container that I can boil and then attach a vapour condenser to."

"Oh I see," Rygel smiled. "Like the large Oxmillian smoking jar in my room?"

"The what?"

"That huge glass vessel in my room - the one used for containing and separating gasses," Rygel said innocently. "It has a pipe already attached, for sucking the top layer out."

"You have a bong in your room?" John gasped.

"I do sometimes pleasure myself, but only when there are no serving wenches to do it for me," Rygel grumped.

John blinked. "No, a _bong_ - for smoking--" he began, then just waved his hands at him. "Look, forget it. So let me see it, maybe we can jump-start this whole distillation thing."

"Oh no," Rygel stated flatly. "First you promise me a portion of the results."

"You don't even know what I'm making."

"If you want to use my equipment, you have to pay for the privilege," the Hynerian said, tipping his head up.

"You know, if you want to look down your nose at someone, you got to have a nose to look down," John said with a malicious grin.

"Do you want to use it or not?"

"Fine. You can have some of the moonshine."

"I knew you'd come around," Rygel nodded. He put his hand back on the controls and turned the chair around, aiming for the door. "Come on, then. Let's get started."

John waited until the little alien was out of the door. Then a slow smile spread over his face.

"Commander?" came the almost nervous sound of Pilot's voice.

"Yeah, Pilot."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression everyone would get a taste of this 'moonshine'."

"That's right."

"So why did you let Dominar Rygel bargain for a share he would have received anyway?"

"Because," John said with satisfaction, picking up the lid and pushing it back on the barrel, "if I'd told him he was getting it for free, our little Napoleon XIV would have bargained for something more than a drink."

"I… see," Pilot havered.

"Somehow I doubt that," John sighed, picking up the barrel and walking off toward Rygel's quarters.

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* * *

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D'Argo sat back, setting down the sharpening block and leaning down to check his handiwork on the Qualta blade. He blew at the surface with satisfaction, sitting back and nodding to himself.

"Ah. D'Argo," came a mellifluous voice and he turned.

"Zhaan."

The Delvian inclined her head, floating into the room silently, as always. "I need answers," she smiled.

"And you're asking me?" D'Argo smiled. "I think you have this arrangement backwards."

"No," she grinned. "It is more straightforward than something as elusive as the needs of the spirit."

"Then ask," he allowed. He turned on his stool, folding his arms and waiting.

"There are a few items missing from my apothecary. Would you know where they went?"

"Do you think I would have taken--"

Zhaan raised her hand quickly. "Sweet D'Argo: so quick to display his guilty conscience," she interrupted gently. "I do not think you would have taken something without asking. I suspect Rygel has purloined something of mine."

"That little--"

"D'Argo - hold a moment," she interrupted.

The Luxan waited, eyeing her and almost daring the Delvian to tell him not to tear the relatively tiny Hynerian apart. But Zhaan simply let out a breath and dropped her hand.

"It is possible… however unlikely… that someone else borrowed something."

"There's possible," D'Argo confirmed, getting to his feet, "and then there's likely. I shall see what he's done with the items he took."

"Leave your weapon. You will not need it," she advised.

He looked at her for a long moment. "You're more right than you know."

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* * *

_Title taken from Warren Zevon's song 'Jeannie Needs A Shooter'. I know I've taken the word 'shooter' out of context, using it to mean 'shot' here, but I'm sure Mr Zevon wouldn't have minded._

'_Jeannie needs a shooter - a shooter like me. Jeannie needs a shooter - a shooter on her side.'_


	3. Johnny Strikes Up The Band

**THREE**

**Johnny Strikes Up The Band**

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D'Argo swept up to the door, waving at the opener and not even stopping to assess the voices coming from in front of him.

"Right, right - turn the valve," John said quickly.

The Luxan stopped to check he had not gone completely blind and replaced all of his ocular input with fantasies of the impossible. He blinked, rubbed at an eye, and then looked again.

Rygel was sitting on the top of a large glass tank, currently full of swirling, colourful mist. All that could be seen of John Crichton were the soles of his boots, the rest of him obscured by the huge glass jar just eighteen inches off the floor.

D'Argo folded his arms and cleared his throat.

"Just what in Hezmana is going on here?"

Rygel looked over. "Yotz! Crichton, I told you to lock the door!"

"It's your room, Spanky, and you're the one with Marty McFly hovering capability." John inched out from under the tank on his back, stopping as he caught sight of D'Argo. "Oh. Hi."

"Crichton." D'Argo let his head tilt. "Am I to believe you two are working on something? Together?"

"Crazy as it sounds, yeah," the human allowed. He got to his feet, dusting his trousers off slowly. "Something we can do for you, big guy?"

"You can tell me who took items from Zhaan's apothecary and why."

John turned, hands on hips, to let a sideways scowl slap into the Hynerian. "You said," he stated firmly, "that that stuff was _yours_, Buckwheat."

"I took nothing," Rygel asserted.

"Rygel?" John pressed.

"I merely borrowed a few items."

"Rygel!"

"It's your fault, Crichton! You said you needed a stabiliser for the mixture, and I happen to know that a little dabnab oil will stabilise just about anything!" Rygel cried angrily. "Without me, you wouldn't be able to boil or catch any of this weird misted dren!"

"Alright, alright," John called soothingly, his hands out in a placating gesture. "Just - next time? _Ask someone_!"

"Just what is this thing?" D'Argo demanded.

"It's… nothing?" John said hopefully.

"Nothing? Oh, ok," D'Argo shrugged easily. He turned to go.

John turned and exchanged a confused glance with Rygel.

"Do you think I am as stupid as the Hynerian!" the Luxan shouted suddenly, turning back to them. "Zhaan asked me to come up here because she thought Rygel had stolen some of her supplies! And now I find you two are in league, building some kind of--"

"Whoa whoa whoa - 'in league'?" John protested, hands up again. "Alright, look," he added quickly, as he noticed D'Argo's lip beginning to curl. "So we're making some moonshine. No big deal."

"Moon? Shine?" D'Argo demanded.

"It's a drink," Rygel put in unctuously. "Apparently, much sought after. And Crichton knows how to make it."

"And why are you helping?" D'Argo snapped. "What's in it for you?"

"Aaahh - we have a deal, he and I," Rygel grinned. He put a hand up, twisting at his whiskers.

"I do not believe this. I am going back to Zhaan and telling her--"

"Wait!" John interrupted quickly. "Look, D'Argo - don't tell her anything - at least, not yet," he pleaded. "I just want to see if this thing of Rygel's works and we can make a bit of hooch. If not, I'll replace all of Zhaan's supplies and Rygel will buy us all _proper_ drinks on the next _proper_ planet we come across."

"I will no--"

"_Can it_, Buckwheat!" John shouted with sudden fire. Rygel closed his mouth. John huffed, turned back to the Luxan, and stepped closer to him. "Look… D'Argo," he said quietly, putting a hand to his larger arm and turning him round. "It's like this, man. I've been out here for like… well over a year. Something like that. And I just want to taste something from home, that's all. All the weird crap I've eaten and drunk out here? It's been great, really, but…" He pulled slightly, walking toward the door and bringing the taller male with him. "I just want to make a little alcohol like you can get on Earth. That's all. I miss it."

He stopped walking, finding them both at the entrance to the room.

D'Argo looked down at him for a long moment. He cast a glare at Rygel before looking back at the human.

"Ok. Just this once, I'll let his thievery go," he said firmly.

"Thanks, D'Argo."

"For a price."

Rygel gasped slightly, then slapped at his knee. "You're just as bad as the rest of us after all!" he concluded, laughing.

D'Argo ignored him and fixed John with a very persuading look.

"I will tell Zhaan you two haven't stolen, pilfered or borrowed anything," he said, "for a taste of whatever it is you're making in that… thing."

"Really?" John moaned. "You sure? You don't even know what we're making!"

"You said it was Earth alcohol. I have tried the drinks of nearly every hospitable planet outside of the Uncharted Territories. I want to rate it against the best."

John grinned suddenly, lifting a fist and bumping it into the warrior's arm. "Well alright! I promise, it's going to be _unbelievable_!"

"It had better be," D'Argo warned. He glared once more at Rygel before walking out.

The door closed. John turned and looked at the Hynerian.

"What?" John asked innocently.

Rygel sniffed and then shook his head.

"What?" the human repeated.

"Don't think I don't know your game, Crichton," he stated.

"Don't know what you're talking about," John said quietly, moving back to the tank and lying on his back, pushing himself underneath with his feet.

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about!" Rygel snapped. "You made me believe I had to barter for my share of the drink!"

"And?" John dared.

"And now you've let D'Argo do it too? I see what you're doing."

"Oh really," John snorted, inspecting the level indicators on the bottom of the tank above his face. "And what's that?"

"You're trying to make sure my share of the drink is as small as possible - by letting others barter in!"

John paused, thought about it, and grinned to himself. He let his hand drop from the controls above his face, rubbing a thumb over his lip a few times. He made his smile drop.

"Ok, you got me," he managed.

"Ha! I knew it!" Rygel grumped. "Well it won't work, Crichton! I'm going to get my full share. You mark my words!"

.

* * *

.

John carried the barrel to his quarters, humming with his mouth open, determined to get the door open without letting go of his cargo.

"You should have asked for help," D'Argo said, approaching from round the bend in the corridor.

"Oh, hey, D'Argo," John grinned. "Get the door open and let's crack this puppy open."

"You did not say anything about using animals in the mixture," he asserted, waving the door open.

"Forget it. Bad choice of words. There are no animals whatsoever in this drink. Well, as far as I know," he added dubiously. "What the hell is dabnab oil, anyway?"

"I have no idea," D'Argo shrugged.

"Oh, about to open it without me, are you?" Rygel called, flying straight through the door and coming to a gentle halt by John's elbow.

John ignored him, putting down the barrel and stepping back. He clapped his hands together, rubbing enthusiastically.

"Ok, boys, here we go," he grinned. He stepped forward, prised the lid off, and stuck his nose in the gap. "Seems ok."

"You've already smelt it a dozen times, getting it out of the jar!" Rygel protested. "When are we going to _taste_ it?"

"Calm down, Fluffy, you'll get yours," John smiled. He turned away to the other end of the workbench, picking up a small handle-shaped claw tool and coming back over. He stuck it in the metal top and began manually cutting it open.

"Here, use this," D'Argo offered, but John's face turned fearful as he saw the small laser torch in the Luxan's hand.

"Nuh-uh. Might ignite the vapours coming off this stuff, and I don't want to have to explain to the girls why none of us has their eyebrows any more."

"Ignite the vapours? What have you created?" Rygel gasped.

"A monster," John grinned, putting the makeshift tin-opener down and grasping the lip of the original, small hole. He pulled the entire top off, putting it on the workbench and reaching for the nearest cup.

"I brought clean ones," D'Argo added, raising his hand. He passed three small beakers to the human, who grinned.

"Well, I really don't think hygiene is going to be an issue, not when this stuff smells like fifty-fifty rocket fuel and absinthe, but hey, can't be too careful," he nodded. He plunged the first cup into the mixture, lifting it out carefully and handing it to D'Argo. "Here. You want to go first?"

"We all drink together," D'Argo said.

"Fair enough." John took the second cup and dunked it in the liquid, pulling it out and holding it in the air. "Come get some, Ryge."

"About time," the Hynerian grumped, before whizzing over and taking the cup in two hands.

John dunked the third and lifted it, letting it drip slightly before looking at the other two.

"Ok. Everyone drinks on three. Ready? One, two--"

"Hold on!" Rygel cried.

"What? You wanted us to hurry up and drink, so we're drinking," John shrugged.

"I'd just like to say that this is a momentous occasion. A human, a Hynerian and a Luxan, all drinking the same home-made dren as if we're friends."

"Wow. When you put it like that," John replied with enough sarcasm to provide his IASA module with ballast.

"It will be worth putting up with his annoying presence," D'Argo interjected. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very special event."

John looked at D'Argo, appraising him for a long moment. "Thanks, man." He straightened, lifting his cup. "Ready? One, two, three!"

All three cups went up. All three cups were emptied. All three cups came down.

And all three aliens stayed stock-still, analysing, thinking, assessing.

"Frelling Hezmana in a hand maiden's lap!" Rygel whispered in awe, a hand to his mouth.

D'Argo stood tall, his face immobile, his demeanour steady. John licked his bottom lip, looked at the cup in his hand, and let himself ponder the odd almost-taste a little longer. The room was silent for a long, long few minutes.

At last, Rygel spoke. "Anyone feel a burning in their altex?"

John considered his cup before blinking over at the barrel again.

"No. I don't feel anything at all," he mumbled. He looked at D'Argo. "Hey. You in there. You ok?" he dared.

D'Argo simply looked down at him. "That… is… _amazing_!" he cried happily. "You are a _genius!_"

John looked back at him until Rygel zoomed round and studied the pair of them.

"What's the matter, Crichton? You don't seem happy," Rygel observed. "That dren is wonderful!"

"Nah, it's nothing, it's just…" John scratched at an ear absently before looking back at the barrel. "It's just… a bit bland. In a nearly sweet way."

"What did you expect?" Rygel asked.

"Well… normally I like a little taste in my moonshine. But there isn't even any alcohol burn. Nothing," he shrugged.

"Well my friend, I say it's excellent and we should have another one," D'Argo said firmly, apparently well pleased.

"If you say so," John sighed, gesturing to the barrel. D'Argo walked up to the side and dipped his cup in again, taking John's cup and refilling that one, too. "But I just expected more of a kick, somehow - or to at least taste the alcohol."

"Perhaps you boiled all the alcohol out of it," Rygel offered. "Wouldn't put it past a human to get it wrong at the last turn."

"Thanks, Ryge," John muttered, obviously disheartened.

D'Argo realised the depths of John's dejection and hissed at the Hynerian suddenly. "Rygel, if you don't like it, go find something else to drink, and _we _will finish the barrel," he snapped.

"Oh no! I'm not letting you two drink the fruits of my labours!"

"_Your_ labours?" D'Argo challenged.

"Guys, guys," John sighed. "Just shut up and drink it. Maybe it gets better after a few cups."

"Well I for one think you should be proud, Crichton. Not everyone can magic up sweet - and free - nectar like this," D'Argo assured him, handing him his cup.

Rygel floated down, refilling his own cup.

"Yeah," John mumbled. "What's the point in being a gifted astronaut with an eidetic memory and a tonne of astrophysics in your head if you can't fail at whipping up a little Mississippi moonshine now and then?" he managed somewhat sourly.

"That's the spirit," D'Argo grinned, lifting his cup. "To John, and his mippippippi moon's shine."

.

* * *

_Title taken from Warren Zevon's song 'Johnny Strikes Up The Band':_

'_And Johnny is my main man, he's the keeper of the keys. He'll put your mind at ease, he's guaranteed to please…'_


	4. Players, Fun And Money

**FOUR**

**Players, Fun and Money**

.

"Are you _sure_ you can't feel a burning in your altex?" Rygel slurred, before giving a great hiccup. This was followed swiftly by a belch that would have put any and all Warner Brothers cartoon characters to shame.

John waved a hand in front of his own face quickly. "Ho! Go easy, man!" he gasped at the acrid smell. "Think I prefer the helium!"

"Well I think," D'Argo chuckled, getting up on rather unsteady feet and aiming at the barrel. "I think…" He dunked his cup in the drink and wandered back. He stumbled slightly and grabbed at John's shoulder to stop him from pitching headfirst into the floor. He handed the cup to the human and took his empty one. "I think…" He headed back and refilled John's cup.

"I think you can't think," John observed, sipping from the cup in his hand. "D'Argo," he said suddenly, grimacing at the cup. "Have you backwashed in this?"

"It's too small, he couldn't wash in there - even if Luxans _did_ wash," Rygel observed with a very generous burp.

"Oh, God, Sparky - do that over there!" John protested, pointing to the far side of his room.

D'Argo sat back down at the workbench, looking at John two feet to his left. "You know," he grinned, putting his hand out and clapping it rather heavily on the man's shoulder, "you have done a great thing here today."

"Really?" John hiccupped. "Thought I made a tasteless, ineffective drink that doesn't even get you a little bit tipsy."

"But it has made me feel less like killing the Hynerian," D'Argo chuckled.

"Liquor. The great peace maker," John agreed, nodding with a small smile.

"So now the grog's not working, can we get to the real reason for this get-together?" Rygel asked.

"What?" John wondered.

"Well this is three males on an evening involving drink. I don't know how they do it on Earth, but for Hynerians, this is a time to put differences aside and join together to pursue one of life's great achievements as a close-knit team."

"Oh yeah? And what's that? Chasing Hynerian skirt?" John hazarded. He took a long pull at his cup before belching nearly as loudly as Rygel had done. The other two looked at him, surprised. "That - ah - wasn't me," he apologised quietly.

"Gambling!" Rygel crowed. "So come on, teach us an Earth game that involves winning someone else's valuables!"

John thought for a long second. "I don't know any--"

"John," D'Argo asserted, shifting his stool up a little closer and dropping his hand on the human's shoulder furthest from him, "don't worry." He shook the human slightly. "Show us a game. If the little hezmot cheats, I'll cleave him and we can have half a Hynerian each to hang on our walls."

"That's… comforting," John managed.

"So come on then, get us started," Rygel ordered. "Either you come up with a game or I will… after I've had another cup of this smooth, smooth, wonderful sweetness!"

.

* * *

.

"So the Kravvidian says - 'what about my refund?'" D'Argo howled with laughter, slapping the workbench in a way that made it greatly afear't and tremble accordingly.

"Whoa, slow down there," John laughed, letting go of his cup and his cards to try and steady the table.

"I don't think thash funny," Rygel hiccupped, leaning to one side quite heavily in his chair.

"You don't think Crap-viddians is a funny name?" John gasped, wiping water from his eyes and managing to stay upright on his stool.

"No. Refunds are nev'r funny - unless _I'm_ getting them," Rygel burped. "But _this_ is."

He leaned forward and opened his hand, dropping circular playing cards to the bench. They fluttered down, landing on top of the human and Luxan's hands.

"No!" D'Argo protested, staring. "You little--"

"And you say you're not affected by th' drink," Rygel said smugly. "I've been saving those, and neither 'uv you noticed I had less cards to begin with!" He fell back in his chair, roaring with laughter, his hands in the air.

D'Argo began to hiss but John dropped his cards and put a hand out on his arm quickly. "D'Argo - leave it," he ordered.

The Luxan looked at him, then at his cup. "You're right. We're lucky he's winning," he asserted slowly, concentrating on his words.

"Yeah. God knows I do _not_ want him takin' off any clothes," John nodded.

"So come on then, pay up!" Rygel giggled.

The human and Luxan shrugged at each other and then stood rather unsteadily. John looked down, remembering he was down to his large black boots, bright white underwear and the black t-shirt he had purloined from the large transport hangar, what felt like years ago. He sighed and put his hands to the shirt, lifting it off over his head.

"Thank you," Rygel grinned, waving to the workbench between them. "Put it wi' my other spoils."

John scowled at him as best he could with an inebriated, half anesthetised face, and dumped the t-shirt on top of the trousers and Peacekeeper waistcoat he had already lost to Rygel's hoard. He sat back down with a thump.

D'Argo got up, grabbing the workbench to aid his sliding down the edge toward the barrel containing the drink. His large red jacket had been shucked a long time ago, his battle shorts and huge door-kicking boots the only thing he wore. He put the cup on the workbench and bent over, pulling off said boots.

"And those," Rygel ordered. "Over 'ere."

D'Argo huffed but then threw the boots directly at the Hynerian. Rygel lowered the chair quickly to avoid getting the heavy warrior footwear in the head. He bobbed up again.

"Thank you," he said graciously.

D'Argo turned back to the cup, picked it up, and dipped it in the barrel. "This is still half full," he noticed. "We need to drink more!"

"I need to shtop playin'," John acceded, but his words were almost rolled into one giant garble of drunken happiness. "All I got left is ma shorts an' ma boots. Either I'm a bad player, or Fluffy's changing th' rules every time he deals."

"As you said," D'Argo managed, sliding the full cup up the workbench and holding his hand out. John put his empty cup on the table and slid it town to him. D'Argo picked it up and refilled it. "We are lucky… he does not have to disrobe. An unclad Hynerian is not a pretty sight."

"Except to another unclad Hynerian," Rygel giggled. "I quite like unclad Hynerians."

"Hey, I got one," John chuckled, sipping at the cup. "There'sh a human, a wolf an' a bear in the woods. It starts rainin' and what-have-you, so they--" He paused to hiccup. "--They end up takin' shelter in this cave. So they start talkin' 'bout--" He pushed a closed fist into his chest, belching loudly. Rygel applauded with a laugh and the human inclined his head. "--So anyway, they start talkin' 'bout what they like. The wolf says 'Wolf ladies are the best', and the human says 'No, human ladies are _superior_' and the bear says 'Nah, they ain't got nothing on bare ladies'--"

D'Argo's mouth opened and a monstrous noise erupted from him.

Human and Hynerian simply stared at him, waiting for the foghorn to cease. Then they looked at each other, lost.

"What th' hell was _that_?" John burbled, clutching at the workbench to stop him from finding the floor.

"A build up of gases," D'Argo admitted. "My apologies."

"Right," John acceded, but it came out as pure burp.

Rygel giggled with unadulterated glee, clapping again. "You're gettin' better at this!" he observed. "See if you can burp your own name!"

"Yeah, cos _that's_ attractive," John laughed sarcastically.

He slipped on the stool, almost sliding off. D'Argo's hand shot out, missed, regrouped, and then latched onto his bare arm.

"Steady," he warned.

John waved a hand at him in gratitude and D'Argo let go.

"You know," Rygel said loftily, "I don't remember the last time I had such a pleasant time in male company. That moon's shine must be doin' its job after all. There's no way I could be friends wi' you two if I wasn't a little frelled on it."

"Thanks, Ryge," John smiled. "Same to you."

"Talking of things that are attractive," D'Argo said quietly, pushing a hand into John's shoulder.

John leaned with the push, then slid back upright with the grace of a sinking ship. "What?"

"You know… _attractive_ things," D'Argo intoned, tilting his head and rolling his eyes up at him.

"D'Argo, what are you talking about?"

"Currency, of course!" Rygel interrupted. "And seein' as I have all of yours, and you are nearly out of clothes, I think it's time we moved on to gamblin' with something bigger."

"Like what?" John asked, pushing himself to sit up.

"Chiana," D'Argo oiled.

"D, you at least have to _own_ someone 'fore you can put 'em up as collateral. And you can't own someone, especially someone like--"

"No, I meant… attractive things," D'Argo said quietly.

"Oh." John's voice was small. "Well… yeah, ok, she's nice to look at, and--"

"But John likes _Aeryn_, don't you, John?" Rygel said maliciously, smiling in such a sweet way the human would have got up and slapped it off his face - had he been able to stand.

"And what do you like? Valuables?" John snapped back. "Hope you get 'em. But they will never be your friend."

"Neither will Nebari tralks or Peacekeeper bitches," Rygel grumbled.

"You know what, Ryge? You just lost your refill rights!" John cried angrily.

"Oooh - you hear that, Luxan? Call his Peacekeeper floozy a bitch and suddenly he's growin' a backbone!"

John pushed himself up from the bench, grabbing at the thronesled and hauling the little deposed ruler toward him.

"You're wrong on four counts, Buckwheat," John snarled into his face. "She ain't a Peacekeeper, she ain't a bitch an' she ain't mine. And most importantly--" He paused to pull their faces closer together. "You know I don't need to defend Aeryn, she'd kick your scaly little ass all over this ship just for lookin' at her wrong. It's not me you should be worried about how you speak to - it's her!"

He pushed vehemently and the thronesled wobbled backwards.

"I might just ask that _Nebari tralk_ how much dren you've stolen from everyone's rooms recently," D'Argo chimed in hotly, and Rygel looked at him.

"Fellas," he said soothingly, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'm sure this is just the drink talkin', yes?" he feathered. "Why can't we all just… get along?"

John crossed his arms in front of him on the workbench before his head slipped forward and banged into it with a sickening thud. D'Argo put a hand on his shoulder, then looked at Rygel.

"Fine. We won't kill you yet. Let's play another round."

"What for?" John managed, his voice muffled by the table top. "I ain't got any more money, clothes or dignity."

"Then let's play for what you _do_ have," Rygel grinned, rubbing his hands.

"His room," D'Argo nodded. "It is bigger than mine."

"Done," Rygel chuckled, an evil little sound that reverberated round the room. He looked around at it. "You've done a lot to this place in a year," he observed. "I like it much more, these days."

"Just deal," John sighed. He lifted his head. "But if I'm puttin' up my room, what are you two puttin' up?"

"This," Rygel said, pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket.

"What's that?" the human and Luxan said together.

"The recipe of this marvellous dren you've made," he chuckled. "And unless you win it back, I'm goin' to sell it across five systems."

"Why you--" John began, pushing himself up again.

"John!" D'Argo, managed, grabbing the human and hauling him back to his stool. "Now is not the time."

"No. You're right," John hiccupped, waving hands in acquiescence. "I'll wait till I've got ma pants back."

"And what are you puttin' up, Luxan?" Rygel added.

"Currency," he nodded. He stood, pulling a small bag from his shorts and setting it on the table.

"I don't wanna know where you hid that," John muttered, his drunken stupor telling him that ignorance was indeed bliss.

"How much is in there?" Rygel demanded, suspicious.

"Enough," D'Argo nodded. He looked at John, then at Rygel. "Now deal."

.

* * *

_The title is a play on Warren Zevon's 'Lawyers, Guns and Money'. As if you didn't already know. :)_

'_I was gambling in Havana. I took a little risk. Send lawyers, guns, and money, Dad! Get me out of this! I'm an innocent bystander! Somehow I got stuck - between a rock and a hard place. And I'm down on my luck.'_


	5. Accidentally A Martyr

**FIVE**

**Accidentally A Martyr**

.

"So you lost the card game, your clothes and your room?" Aeryn asked.

John massaged his temples, still on his back on her bed. "Basically."

"So just go take everything back - Rygel's not exactly going to be able to stop you," Chiana shrugged.

"I can't just take it all back," John sighed. "It's a Millennium Falcon thing."

"What's an old bird got to do with anything?" Aeryn asked slowly, with suspicion.

"That translates?" John muttered to himself. "He won it fair and square," he added more loudly. "I can't just take it back, it'd be stealing."

"What's wrong with that?" Chiana wondered.

"I see your point," Aeryn sighed. "So… We _win_ it back."

"We?" Chiana and John chorused with varying degrees of disbelief.

"If you don't want my help--" Aeryn began.

John pushed himself up to sit, his hands out behind him to hold him up. "Look, I appreciate this," he allowed. "But maybe I should just do this by myself."

"Oh come on, let Aeryn help you," Chiana giggled, pushing at his shoulder, "it'll be fun!"

"Don't say it!" John spluttered suddenly.

"What? All I was going to say was 'How wrong could it go?'"

Aeryn rolled her eyes and John let out a long wheeze of a painful sigh.

"Besides," the Nebari continued, "if it totally fekked you like this, I've got to try whatever is in that barrel!"

"I must admit… It is intriguing," Aeryn mused.

John's painfully red eyes swivelled to look at her.

"You want to try it?" he asked, surprised.

"Why not?" Aeryn countered, a little defensively. "I've never really had a chance to get completely tooled--"

"Hammered," John corrected.

"--hammered before. There were always patrols and duty and inspections and no chance to let go."

A slow smile spread over the human's face. "So you want to let your hair down for a change?"

Aeryn ran a hand through her free tresses, looking confused. "It's already--"

"Let's do it," John nodded. "Ah… First things first."

"What?" Chiana asked.

"Anyone got a t-shirt?"

"Why? You got the furry. I kind of like the furry," she giggled, reaching out and rubbing at his chest. He squirmed, pushing her off gently but nevertheless firmly. "It's like a narl's toy, all fluffy," she continued.

"Yeah, how about I rub _you_ till you die of humiliation?" he managed, and Aeryn noticed his face was a little redder than it had been.

"Ok," Chiana purred with a giggle. "Rub me anywhere you want."

Aeryn sighed, going to the far corner of the room and rooting through. Chiana jumped into John's lap, giggling maliciously as she attempted to rub at his chest. He grappled with her wrists, trying to hold her off, as Aeryn walked back over.

"Chiana. Get off him," she ordered, and the Nebari calmed down, sliding over to sit on the bed.

"Here," Aeryn said sternly, and John put his hand out and took the standard issue one-size-fits-none Peacekeeper t-shirt.

"Thanks," he muttered, wringing it into a circle to get it over his head. "Don't suppose you've got any pants that would fit me?"

Aeryn raised an eyebrow at him, let her eyes run all the way down and then back up, and controlled a smile.

"Don't think so."

"Shame. Another opportunity to get into your pants missed," he smirked.

Aeryn's face turned hard and her arms folded. John cleared his throat.

"It was a joke," he shrugged nervously, hoping a cheeky smile would get him out of the hole his status had fallen into.

Aeryn's face lightened slightly. "Right, well," she nodded, "how do we do this?"

.

* * *

.

Aeryn walked round the door frame and looked in. "Rygel?" she called. There were plenty of abandoned clothes, cups and towels, and a very large glass tank dirty and scarred on the underside, but no Hynerian.

She tutted, then walked back out.

"Pilot?" she asked quickly, her hands stealing onto her hips.

"Yes, Officer Sun."

"Do you know where Rygel is?"

"I do. He is with Zhaan. It seems he is unwell," Pilot responded, sounding curious. "Ka D'Argo is also with her. He _also_ seems to be unwell."

"I don't doubt," Aeryn replied, stopping and turning round, heading off in the opposite direction.

"Is it something to do with the 'moonshine' that the Commander made roughly fifteen arns ago?" he added.

"Apparently," she judged. "Are you aware that Rygel cheated Crichton and D'Argo out of their clothes and money? And Crichton his room?"

"I was not until now," Pilot answered. "How did he manage to fool them out of such important items?"

"Because they were drunk, Pilot. It seems human and Luxan males are as stupid as any other race's 'men' when they're inebriated."

"So it would seem," Pilot said, and now his voice sounded ever so slightly amused. "Are you angry, Officer Sun?"

"I'm angry that Crichton decided he'd sleep on my floor until his 'hand-over' wore off," she admitted, her boots making loud progress down the corridor.

"Whyever did he sleep on your floor?" Pilot gasped, surprised. "There are plenty of corridors. He has even been known to fall asleep under the front of my den here in case of insomnia."

Aeryn's boots slowed. "Insomnia?" she wondered out loud.

"He has found the transition from a single-planet existence to a multi-dimensional awareness somewhat… bumpy. It was less than two cycles ago that he believed he came from the galaxy's only populated planet and had travelled farther in his module than any other sentient being. I believe he felt quite small and useless."

"I… see," she managed, humbled slightly by the news. Then her face screwed up. "So what's with all the arrogant 'trust me Aeryn, I know more than you' dren?" she demanded impatiently. "He walks around like he knows how everything's going to turn out! It's infuriating!"

"Do not confuse arrogance with… bravado," Pilot said, his voice quietly apologetic. The corridor was silent for a long moment. "He did admit on one occasion that he could sleep in the pilot's den because he considered it a 'safe place'," Pilot added, somewhat nervously.

Aeryn stopped walking, biting her lip and fearing the next sentence to break the silence, from either of them.

"Is it possible that… he also considers your room to be a safe place?" Pilot havered.

It was quieter than space itself for a moment.

"It would make sense," Aeryn blustered. "I _do_ have the highest grade of weapons training and fighting skills on the ship."

"Of… course," Pilot answer quietly.

Aeryn cleared her throat. "Anyway. I want to set up a match with that little Hynerian drannit and see if I can't win back some of their clothes, at least. And if I can't get Crichton his room back, I am _not_ helping him convert another empty one to living space. It's not my job," she grumped.

"I agree completely, Officer Sun," Pilot responded. "But both Crichton and D'Argo knew of the risks before they gambled. Why do you feel they have been cheated?"

"Because Rygel's involved," she pointed out.

"Ah yes. And why are you helping at all?"

"Because it amuses me that two grown men need the help of a woman to get their own clothes back," she smiled.

.

* * *

.

"Hold still, Rygel," Zhaan tutted, holding the spoon under his nose. "Now don't be such an infant and take this."

"It'll make me vomit! Everything you've given me has made me vomit!" he pointed out.

"It's not my medicines that have caused you stomach problems, it was that vile substance you were drinking," she snapped. "You might notice that D'Argo took the same medicine and he is sleeping very peacefully now."

"That's because he weighs about four times as much as me and only has one stomach to heave from!" he protested.

Zhaan pulled the spoon away and stood back. "Fine! Vomit until it's all gone! That's the best way to get it out of your system anyway!"

"Ohhh… leave me to die," he moaned, rolling onto his left side. He pulled at the blanket, lifting it almost to his chin as he stretched out painfully.

"Fine," she sighed. She turned away, looking over at the Luxan and approaching silently. She ran a hand over his brow, smiling slightly.

"Zhaan," came a female voice, and the Delvian turned to see Aeryn venturing into the room slowly.

"Aeryn. Are you also sick from that wretched drink?" she asked wearily.

"No! No, not at all," she smiled. "Apparently, it was a males-only event. Lucky us."

"Yes," Zhaan nodded, a smile reaching her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"Well… It's more of what Rygel can do for Crichton and D'Argo, really," Aeryn beamed meaningfully, approaching the bed from which moaning and groaning was currently emanating.

"How so?" Zhaan asked, confused. "Rygel is not in any state to help anyone right now," she said. "He has suffered mild altex poisoning and is in pain, as well as in danger of fluid loss."

"Oh, he's in danger of fluid loss alright," the former Peacekeeper warned, stopping above the blanket and pulling it down slightly.

"Leave me alone," Rygel groaned.

"Oh dear," Aeryn gasped, concerned. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"Oh no, poor Dominar," she commiserated, sliding her hand to his eyebrow. She stroked it gently. "You poor, poor thing."

"That's… helping," he sighed, starting to relax.

Aeryn twisted suddenly.

"Ah! Ah! Let me go, you Sebacean bitch!"

She bent down to the side of his face. "You listen to me," she ordered on a firm breath. "You and I are going to have a game of cards, and I'm going to win back everything you cheated the boys out of."

"Let me go!" he insisted. "I didn't cheat - cheat anyone!"

"Oh really?" she growled. "Knowing you had three stomachs and a faster metabolism to break down any brain-killing drink you could get down your gullet? Not cheating?"

"Ah! Zhaan! Zhaan, help me!" he shrieked.

"You told me to leave you alone," the Delvian answered primly, before turning and exiting the room.

Aeryn looked at him, watching him squirm and suffer. "Are we agreed?"

"What?"

"Are we going to have a game?" she barked.

"Yes! Yes! Just let go of me!"

She opened her fingers and released him, stepping back one.

"Just know this, Peacekeeper! I beat the two of them and I'll beat you too! I hope you look better in underwear than you do in your uniform!"

Aeryn surveyed him coldly. Then she looked over at D'Argo, noticing his eyes were open.

"D'Argo," she nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to kill the human who made that poison," he confessed.

She took a deep breath. "Well don't do it yet," she advised. "I need him for something first."

"What's that?" D'Argo asked, then heard Rygel's dirty chuckle from beyond her. "Forget I asked."

"Oh grow up," she tutted, turning and walking out.

.

* * *

.

Aeryn walked back into her own quarters to find Chiana chuckling and bouncing on her bed, her back to the door.

"Chiana, what are you doing?" she demanded angrily.

The Nebari stopped and twisted round, bouncing on the edge and coming to a complete stop.

"Nothing," she said guiltily. "You, ah, finished with Rygel?"

"Yes," she said suspiciously, walking further into the room and round, to see the bottom of the bed. Chiana shifted round quickly, staying at the forefront of her line of sight. "If you're quick you might want to get a bit of torture in - he can't get up right now to run away."

"See you later!" Chiana gasped, leaping off the bed and tearing out of the door.

Aeryn's suspicions were confirmed as she found a lump under her blankets in the bed. She folded her arms and walked to the edge, only just noticing the large pair of boots dumped at the far side.

"Crichton!" she called. "Get out of my bed!"

"Mmm," he managed, from somewhere under the mound of bedspread.

She made a disgusted sound deep in her throat, walking to the edge and sitting. She shifted up and pushed her back into what she presumed to be his, shoving him slightly.

"Mmm," he repeated, his voice thick with sleep.

"Why my bed?" she sighed to herself.

"Cos you could shoot Pip," he rumbled. "She keeps trying to rub me like I'm some kind of lucky teddy bear."

She blinked, thought about it, and turned to the lump behind her. She leaned over and peeled the top of the blanket back, finding the back of his head and rather too-attractive spiked up hair.

"I thought you'd like that," she said stiffly.

"Not really," he responded, as if his voice had had to be dredged up from the Marianas Trench all the way from Earth.

She let the blanket drop to his neck, planning to get up and leave. But she found herself unable to stop studying the side of his face. It was quiet for a long moment.

"Stop staring," he breathed quietly, and only several years of Peacekeeper training prevented her from jumping in surprise and guilt.

"Crichton, just answer me one question and I'll leave you alone to sleep," she said nervously.

"No, I don't know who put the ram in the ram-a-lam-a-ding-dong," he muttered.

"Look, just tell me. Why did you think my room was a safe place to sleep off your hand-over?"

"_Hang_over," he grunted. It was silent for a good minute but she waited. "Because… because you have…"

"Yes?"

"You have big…"

"Crichton," she tutted.

"Guns."

"Oh."

She pushed herself up to sit, thinking. Then she turned back to the lump and pushed at his shoulder harshly.

"Don't kill me," he rumbled. "I promise it won't make you feel better."

"Crichton, do you want me to help you or not?"

"…Thinking…"

"Then wake up. You have to help _me_ to help _you_."

"And I will, Jerry Maguire," he grumped. "In an arn or two--"

"No. You have to wake up and tell me what you were playing with Rygel last night - and how he won."

"Why?"

"Because that sorry little excuse for a dirty bag of life-form is going to get his arse licked."

"Kicked," John corrected.

"That too," she nodded firmly.

He rolled onto his back, his head bumping into her arm. He blinked his eyes open and sought out her face.

"I could possibly still be a little drunk," he announced, meeting her eyes, "but I think you're the coolest woman I've ever met."

"How dare you," she snorted, getting up. "I am not a cold person at all. I think I've done very well to get used to all you people--"

"Aeryn--" he moaned, then just sighed and let his eyes close. "Forget it."

.

* * *

_Chapter title is exactly a Warren Zevon song. _

'_The phone don't ring, and the sun refused to shine. Never thought I'd have to pay so dearly, for what was already mine…'_


	6. Tenterhooks On The Block

**SIX**

**Tenterhooks On The Block**

.

.

Aeryn sat slowly, nudging her plaited hair over her shoulder and clearing her throat. She looked across the large table at the Hynerian, similarly settling himself.

"Right," John announced, clapping his hands together and then regretting it as his head protested with aches. "Right," he repeated, much more quietly. "Are we ready to start?"

"Just let's be clear about one thing," Rygel said grumpily. "Winner walks away and there's no rematch."

"Fine," Aeryn snapped.

"Fine," Rygel nodded. "Then let's start. I want to get this over with so I can finally eat again."

The door swept open and Zhaan entered, closely followed by D'Argo and a giggling Chiana.

"Hey, Pantless," she called at John. "You really think Aeryn's going to win?"

"I do," he managed, ignoring the fact that he was still standing in Peacekeeper boots, white shorts and a black t-shirt, in light of the fact that either nothing else fitted him on the ship, or it simply could not be found with the headache he had impeding his patience. He folded his arms slowly.

"Well I'm sorry, but I think Rygel's going to take all of her stuff, too," Chiana grinned.

"Care to make a wager on that?" D'Argo challenged.

Chiana looked over at him, looking him up and down and grinning at his lack of attire. As it was, he was standing in bare feet and a large, shiny medical blanket was wrapped around him as if he were cold.

"Sure! How much you got?" Chiana chuckled. "Oh that's right - nothing!"

D'Argo straightened his back, walking to the end of the large table and sitting slowly. "I believe Aeryn will win everything back. I will bet all the currency in that pouch to that effect."

"And if you win? What do you want?" she asked innocently.

"You have to quit rubbing people and let them sleep," John put in, and everyone in the room turned to look at him. "And… she pays for the next load of crackers."

There were nods all round and then all attention went back to the table.

"Cards," Aeryn ordered.

Rygel put his hand inside his jacket, pulling out the set of circular playing cards.

"I'll check those," Zhaan said quickly, walking over and taking them from him. She fanned them out, ignoring his protestations as she counted them. "There are three missing," she stated flatly, before turning to look at him. "Find them."

"This is an old pack," he reasoned. "I have no idea where--"

"_Find them!_" the entire room chorused.

"Fine," he groused. "The only reason we're here is because you two frellniks couldn't hold your drink in the first place."

"The drink that I made myself and gave you for _free_," John observed.

"Don't remind us," D'Argo moaned, and John looked at his feet.

Rygel rummaged around and then pulled out two cards. "Ah, here we are," he announced.

"Three," Zhaan intoned.

"Or would you like me to pick you up by your feet and shake you until the other card drops out?" Aeryn said firmly.

Rygel looked at her, then gulped and quickly began patting down his other pockets. "Oh - no - it's ok, I've found it," he said weakly, smiling the wan smile of the timid as he let it drop into Zhaan's waiting hands.

"Finally," Zhaan sighed. She shuffled the cards and flicked and pushed, mixing them so deftly and so quickly that the others just stared. She looked up at the silence. "As you know, I wasn't always a Pa'u," she allowed with a smile.

John was grinning as Zhaan moved to a neutral distance to both players.

"Now listen to me, Rygel," she said harshly. "I will deal all hands and I will check for signs of cheating. You will not take advantage of anyone here today."

"That's what you think," he grumbled.

Zhaan simply took a calming breath and turned to Aeryn. "Are you ready to begin?"

"I am. Thank you, Zhaan," she said warmly. Zhaan smiled, looking at the round cards in her hands.

She leaned forward and dealt three cards to each player, standing back once finished. Chiana shuffled until she was behind Rygel, putting her hands on her knees to bend over and look at his cards over his shoulder.

D'Argo took up a defensive position behind Zhaan, closest to Rygel, ready to reach out with either hand or tongue.

John floated back and to the side until he was behind Aeryn's left shoulder, watching avidly as she picked up the cards. She scanned them quickly and neither Sebacean nor human let their faces give anything away as she let them back to the surface of the table.

Chiana and Rygel giggled between them before Rygel looked at Zhaan.

"I'd like to buy another card, please," he oiled.

Zhaan accepted the bauble he rolled her way and flicked another card at him. It skimmed across the table, stopping just short. He had to lean over to reach it. He picked it up and a small shadow passed over his sudden frown.

Zhaan looked to Aeryn. "And you?"

"I would like…" She lifted her cards again to peek at them. "To buy his card."

"Rygel, do you accept or counter offer?" Zhaan asked calmly.

"I… counter offer," he announced. He produced another shiny bauble.

"And I blow your little counter offer out of the waffle," Aeryn stated, lifting her pulse pistol from the holster on her leg.

John bent down, arms still folded, until his face was very close to her left ear. "Water," he corrected.

"Sshh," she hissed, placing her gun on the table.

"Fine. Buy it," Rygel grumped. He flicked it over at Aeryn and she passed the gun to John. He carried it over and placed it in front of the Hynerian.

"Just so you know," Aeryn said coldly, "I will be getting that back."

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you," Rygel glared. Aeryn just smiled slightly, but the ice in her eyes made the Hynerian look away quickly.

"Zhaan," Aeryn said calmly, picking up the card and looking at it quickly.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to buy another card, please."

.

* * *

.

John paced backwards and forwards behind Aeryn, his boots making soft _boom boom boom boom_ noises that irritated the Sebacean.

"Crichton," she snapped. "Come here!"

"What is it?"

"I need your help with something."

He was already walking up behind her, stopping next to her with his arms tightly folded to avoid biting his fingers from stress. Aeryn put her hand down and flicked painfully at his exposed kneecap.

"Ow!"

"Stop. Pacing." She turned and looked over her shoulder at him, glaring balefully. "You are distracting me."

He put both hands up in surrender and backed away quickly, innocence written on his face. Aeryn looked over at Rygel.

Chiana was wiping his forehead with some kind of cloth, whispering into his ear. Rygel was grinning, until he caught a look from D'Argo that made him swallow and wave the Nebari away from him.

"Right," he said clearly. "We've been here three arns without a break. I say we get some food."

"No. We stay and finish this," Aeryn asserted.

John walked up and put his left hand on the table next to her, leaning his mouth down to her ear. He whispered something and Aeryn's face relaxed slightly.

"Ok," she allowed. "We eat first, and _then_ you lose everything you have."

Rygel simply rumbled with mistrust, looking at Zhaan. "You'll protect our cards?" he asked.

"I will," she nodded. "No-one will see anyone's cards while you are gone."

Rygel nodded, placing the cards on the table and groaning. He lifted his hand to the control stick of his chair and floated upwards, curling a finger at Chiana to follow him. D'Argo got up, following with a dark look on his face.

As soon as Rygel was out of the room, Aeryn turned in her seat to look at John. "Are you sure he's going to be easier to beat once he's eaten?" she hissed.

"Aeryn, you know him as well as I do. He'll be in there for an arn, stuffing his face, and when he comes back he'll be happier and less ansy. Makes sense."

"Nothing Rygel does makes sense," she protested, but she did lean back in the chair and let out a long huff. "I'm not sure I can do this," she added quietly.

John watched her close her eyes and let her head fall over the high backrest of the chair. She put a hand up to squeeze at her neck, her eyes still closed, and he made himself look away to Zhaan.

She smiled serenely, reached out, and collected the cards back in. She slipped both players' hands inside the long arms of her robes and inclined her head to the human, turning and sweeping out of the room.

John turned and leaned back on the edge of the table, his hands either side of him.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Aeryn opened her eyes, finding his face.

"You're actually doing really well," he said, with amusement in his eyes.

"You sound surprised."

"Well… D'Argo and I kind of got stripped in under two arns," he shrugged. "You've already got half of D'Argo's kit back and my pants. I'm impressed."

"Really?" she asked, caught off guard by the appreciation in someone else's voice for something she had done that hadn't involved shooting or hitting someone.

"Yeah, really," he nodded earnestly.

"You're just saying that," she said deliberately.

"Nah, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're just saying that because you're scared I'm going to lose it in the next half and you'll have to walk around without pants until we find a commerce planet to get some new ones," she smiled sweetly.

"Damn, you got me," he teased, looking at his boots for a moment. She sat up, putting her hand out on his, on the edge of the table.

"If you want me to quit while I'm ahead, just say so," she said quietly.

John opened his mouth, then apparently thought better of it and gave up. He pushed himself off the table and began to walk away.

"Well, I'm just - ah - going to get something to - um - eat," he said, not looking at her. "You want anything?"

"Some of that moon's shine would probably help," she called after him, confused over his behaviour.

"Comin' right up," he called without looking back.

She watched him leave, then sat back in the chair.

"I didn't say you walking around without pants would be a _bad_ thing," she mused to herself. Then she sighed and stood up slowly, stretching out tired muscles.

.

* * *

.

"Right. Let's finish this," Rygel grumped, still wiping crumbs from his front. Chiana began to help him dust them off until he looked at her. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you…"

"What?" she asked innocently, halting her hand and backing up a step.

The Hynerian waved her closer again. "Just why are you on my side here, hmm?" he oiled. "Helping me, or simply spying for the other side?"

The Nebari's face took on a look of astonished outrage than Rygel completely failed to swallow. "I've seen you play, and she used to be a Peacekeeper. What odds would you give?"

Rygel's smile rippled outwards, stretching his face into something that reminded John of a banana boat on the beach in Florida once. D'Argo, from behind Zhaan, simply watched.

Aeryn sat in her chair slowly, casting a slightly vulnerable look at John before turning her attention on the little Hynerian.

"Come on then," she ordered.

Zhaan produced the protected hands, sliding them back to their owners. Each of them picked up their cards and studied them.

"Rygel. I believe it was your play," Zhaan announced.

"Yes. I would like to sell you a card, Zhaan."

"How much do you want for it?"

Rygel considered his hand, watched avidly by Aeryn and John. Aeryn watched him remove the card furthest left, turning it face down on the table and looking at Zhaan.

"Two gems," he said tonelessly.

"I must see the card," she stated, reaching out for it.

"Wait," Aeryn said quickly. "I want to buy it."

Zhaan paused. She looked at Rygel.

"Still two gems?" she asked.

"For that Peacekeeper bitch? Four," he smiled.

Aeryn's lip curled but John put his hand round her and slapped her cards and, by extension, hands, flat against the table. His lips very nearly touched her left ear.

"He's trying to piss you off," he whispered.

"I know!" Aeryn snapped.

"So don't let him." The human paused, summoning courage to continue. "Patience. With patience comes the kicking of the ass we talked about."

She blew out a sigh and John backed up one, folding his arms and fixing Rygel with a definitely less than friendly gaze.

Aeryn tipped a finger up at John and he bent down again, offering his ear.

"I'm not good at patience," she admitted.

_You think?_ John nodded on the inside, but his eyes never left the Hynerian. He lifted his head and hovered by her ear again, inadvertently smelling her hair and trying to ignore it. "Then you have the tactical advantage. He's not expecting an ambush that needs patience, he thinks you're just going to come in all guns blazing."

He didn't move but she pulled her head away, turning to look at him strangely for a long moment. He looked back at her, and suddenly, she began to smile. He started to smile back, but then something in her predatory stare killed the warmth of the moment. He swallowed and stood straight.

She turned her head and looked back at Rygel.

"Right then," she announced, tipping a finger at the Hynerian. "Zhaan? I want to buy the two cards on his left," she declared.

Zhaan looked from Aeryn to John to Aeryn again, slightly alarmed. John put his hand on the table and bent down to her face.

"Aeryn, this is not a criticism, but _what the hell are you doing?_" he hissed urgently.

She smiled at him from barely an inch away. "I'm coming in, all guns blazing." She produced an evil grin and then put a finger to his chest, pushing him out of the way. She picked up her cup of moonshine, downing it in one go.

"Aeryn--"

"John," she said happily, picking up gems and sliding them across the table to Rygel and Chiana, "shut up. How wrong could it go?"

_._

_

* * *

_

_Another play on a Warren Zevon song title: This one is from 'Tenderness On The Block', about a young girl all grow'd up and dating strange men and learning new things._

'_Mama, where's your pretty little girl tonight? Trying to run before she can walk - that's right. She's growing up, she has a young man waiting. Wide eyes - she'll be street-wise, to the lies and the jive talk. She'll find true love. And tenderness on the block.'_


	7. Disorder In The House

**SEVEN**

**Disorder In The House**

.

.

Aeryn laughed out loud, leaning forward and pulling all the shiny stones back toward her.

"I told you, Rygel, I've got you now," she chuckled.

John stood behind her, his wide, worried eyes fastened on her movements, his thumb jammed across his mouth firmly to keep it shut.

"So you think," Rygel grumped.

"Hey, don't lose now, you little fek. I've got a wager you'll win," Chiana tutted indignantly from behind him.

"Oh shut up," he snapped. "As if I care about any wager _you_ have when I could lose my imperial robes!"

Aeryn giggled to herself, picking up the empty cup and turning in her seat.

"Crichton," she commanded, not even noticing his aggrieved face, "get me more of this drink. It's _amazing_."

"I think you've had enough," he managed.

She set the cup back down gently, then tipped her finger over her shoulder. He walked up behind her slowly until she leaned to her right, looking up at him over her left shoulder.

"I'll say when I've had enough. Get me some more."

"Boy."

"What?"

"Don't forget to call me 'Boy'," he replied sarcastically. She just blinked at him and he grasped the cup, turning to walk away.

"Right, well, anyway," she said, turning back to look at Rygel. He narrowed his eyes at her for a long moment. She ignored him, tossing her plait over her shoulder haughtily. "Come on then. I want to finish this so I can go claim my barrel of moon's shine and drink all of it in front of you," she nodded.

Rygel rumbled resentfully, looking at Zhaan and nodding. She inclined her head and dealt a new hand, waiting patiently while the players assessed their cards. Rygel cleared his throat slowly.

"I'll buy a card, Zhaan," he said quietly.

The transaction was completed quickly with no interference from Aeryn, who sat watching both Rygel and Chiana with seemingly smug amusement.

"Aeryn?" Zhaan asked politely.

She sniffed, rubbed at her nose, and then straightened in her chair.

"Ok then. Rygel. Here we go. Reedum an weep," she pronounced clearly, setting her cards down on the table.

Rygel stared. And stared.

Then he turned and looked at Chiana for a long moment.

"I told you never to trust a Peacekeeper, former or otherwise," he snapped. Then he dropped his cards to the table. "Take that, bitch! I trump every single frelling card you have! _Ha!_"

Aeryn just stared at the table, her eyes glued to the cards thereon.

John arrived back at the door with a full cup of moonshine. He paused, assessing the mood of everyone and then wandering a little closer. He spied the cards and stopped dead.

"Goddamn it, Aeryn!" he accused. Then he lifted the cup and emptied it.

.

* * *

.

"So now all that there remains for me to do is complete this last hand and take your clothes," Rygel chuckled. He lifted a hand behind him and Chiana grabbed it, laughing maniacally and shaking his fingers.

"Dren," Aeryn whispered, her eyes still on the cards. Her face snapped up to look at the Hynerian. "You! You cheated!"

"No, Aeryn, he could not have cheated," Zhaan said gently. "You lost. You gambled too quickly and too recklessly, and you lost."

"Well I'm ready for the last hand! I want my pulse pistol back!" she cried angrily.

John walked around the table, waving his hands at Zhaan.

"Nah, ah-ah, absolutely not," he called quickly. "No. She is done. We're done. I'm going to live the next few months without pants, and it's all Aeryn's fault."

"Crichton!" she gasped. "_My_ fault? Who made the moon's shine?"

"Ok, alright, so it wasn't _all_ your fault - it was a team effort," he allowed.

She shot out of her chair, advancing on him and only stopping when he backed into a bulkhead painfully.

"Aeryn, hit me or give me a shot in the jewels if it'll make you feel better, but it's not going to help you win the last hand. Quit while you're ahead," he said clearly.

"I'm not ahead! I've got no more than I came in with!"

"But you have your clothes!" he pointed out. "That's more than I walked away with!"

She fumed inches from his face for a long moment. He put his hands up in surrender, mindful of the others watching this little temper tantrum from an intoxicated Sebacean.

"Look… Quit now. You've got your clothes and your dignity. Walk away," he advised darkly.

She shook her head slowly.

"Aeryn, _please_. I do not want you to have to give your clothes to Rygel. You know what he'll be sniffing for the next few solar days if you do?" he pleaded. "Don't. Do. It."

She continued to stare up at him with the large, expressive eyes he found so hard to resist.

"Do you trust me?" she said, so quietly he thought she had mouthed it at him.

He flicked his gaze over to the others, watching with matching expressions of worry. He looked back down at her, thinking furiously.

_What am I even thinking about this for?_ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes."

She nodded ever so slightly. "Then beg me not to play the last hand."

His eyebrows registered his confusion by mamboing their little Uncertainty Ditty while his brain decided that he really, _really_ couldn't afford the time to try and work it all out.

"Aeryn," he said firmly. "Do not play that last hand."

"I'll do whatever I want!" she cried angrily.

He tried to back up a little further and failed. "No! You can't! You'll _literally _lose your shirt!"

"If you don't shut up and let me play, I'll shoot you and play it anyway!" she shouted.

"What with? He's got your gun!"

She put her hands up and pressed them into his t-shirt, leaning on them. "You honestly believe I only ever carry _one weapon_?"

"You win," he squeaked instantly.

"Stay!" she commanded.

He nodded, hands still up, and she turned away from him. She walked to the table and plonked herself down a little unsteadily.

"Right, where were we - oh yes. The last hand. Deal," she said tonelessly.

Zhaan took a deep breath. "Aeryn, perhaps it would be best if--"

"Deal, you interfering bitch!" she snapped.

Zhaan squared her shoulders as her expression tightened. She looked up at John, still plastering himself against the bulkhead, and then back down at the Sebacean.

"Fine. On your head be it," Zhaan stated. She began to deal a fresh hand.

John slid off the wall and stumbled over slowly, keeping well back from Aeryn's chair this time. He looked at D'Argo, who shook his head in sympathy.

Rygel was grinning. "Got you now, Peacekeeper. I wonder if your little black top there will fit me," he oiled.

"I wonder if my boot will fit up your ass," John threatened quietly.

Rygel look at him, then away to Aeryn again. The two players picked up their cards.

"Does anyone wish to buy a card?" Zhaan asked softly.

"I do," Aeryn said, her voice like stone.

Zhaan surveyed the table in front of her. "You have nothing with which to buy--"

Aeryn stood and peeled off her leather waistcoat, folding it and setting it on the table.

"No," John moaned, his hand wiping over his face. "Don't do this, Aeryn. _Please_."

She ignored him. Rygel twirled at his whiskers slowly, shifting his eyes to and enjoying the agonised look on the male human's face. He looked at Zhaan.

"I have no need of further cards," he said loudly. "With my win, I keep Crichton's room, his and D'Argo's clothes, D'Argo's money pouch, the barrel of and recipe to the moon's shine, Aeryn's jacket, her pulse pistol, and all of her gems. Do I have it right, Zhaan?" he asked, his voice dripping with honey.

"You do," she confirmed, her voice a near whisper. She looked at Aeryn. "Do you wish to play the hand or fold with what you have?"

"Aeryn," John warned. "Don't do this for me, it's not worth it."

"You mean _you're_ not worth it?" she asked clearly, her eyes still on Rygel's.

"Yes! _I'm_ not worth it! My room's not worth it! Hell, even my damn _pants_ ain't worth it! Just fold, will you? Just - _please_ - fold! I. Am. _Begging_. You."

She smiled grimly. "I am committed. And a soldier always follows a strategy through, no matter what."

"You're not a soldier any more! Quit this, _now_!" John shouted.

"Rygel," she said, her face draining of amusement. "Show 'em."

The Hynerian looked at Chiana by his side before hovering down slightly. He placed each card out slowly, laying them side by side across the front of his mountain of gems, stones and sparkly baubles.

"There," he said, with so much satisfaction Aeryn wondered if he were touching his own eyebrows.

"Oh," Aeryn remarked, surprised.

John slapped his hands over his face.

"What's the matter?" Rygel oiled. "Not what you expected?"

"Actually?" Aeryn said, her face white and vulnerable, "No, not at all. I mean, I saw you take the blue stijj card and swap it for the yellow hraas one Zhaan dealt you, but I didn't see you palm that yellow stijj card like that."

"What?" Rygel gasped. He looked at Zhaan quickly. "She doesn't know what she's talking about!" he protested as the Delvian began to advance on him.

"Oh. Then how did Zhaan just give me a yellow stijj card, when there's only one in the entire pack?" Aeryn asked innocently, blinking large eyes at everyone. She lifted her hand to brandish the yellow playing card at everyone. "I mean, I'm hardly an expert at this game, but I think that if someone has a duplicate card, they must be cheating. Do I have it right, Zhaan?" she blinked with so much naivety Moya could have used it as ballast.

The Pa'u looked at her, then inclined her head deeply. "You have it right, Aeryn. Once again, I am at a loss for words to commend your conduct."

John let his hands fall from over his eyes at last, letting them rest over his mouth instead. D'Argo shot to his feet, taking a deep breath.

"So all bets are off!" he demanded. "So you, Rygel, can return all of the items you cheated from us!"

"Actually," Zhaan said slowly, "As Rygel's last card no longer counts, I believe Aeryn has won all of the items. They now belong to her."

"Oh," Aeryn observed, looking round at everyone. "Well, if that's true…" She stood and picked up her waistcoat, slipping it back on over her small top, and then reaching for her pistol. She turned and looked at John. "Then that means… your pants are mine?"

He still had his hands over his mouth. He nodded dumbly.

She grinned. "Oh good. I'll see what Pilot can do about _washing_ them," she said happily.

Rygel put a hand over his eyes and turned his chair around quickly, disappearing from the room and leaving all his ex-winnings on the table. D'Argo looked at Zhaan, touching her elbow and smiling widely before reaching for his clothes.

Zhaan shrugged at Chiana, who turned and bolted from the room, the Delvian tutting and following quickly.

D'Argo nodded to Aeryn and she smiled in triumph, reaching over and picking up the Luxan money pouch. She hefted it, about to toss it to him, but then paused.

"How much did you have in here before Rygel got his claws on it?" she asked with a worried frown, before throwing it to him anyway.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to tell _anyone_ on the ship?" he breathed.

Aeryn and John nodded.

"Absolutely nothing," D'Argo grinned. He sniffed, tossed the money pouch into the air, catching it and nodding to himself. "What's what word?" he asked John. "Cool?"

"Cool," he confirmed.

D'Argo grinned and turned around, playing catch with his empty pouch until he was out of the door.

"Well I'll be damned," John managed, his voice quiet.

"So will I," Aeryn observed. "This 'cool'?"

"Yeah?"

"It's a good thing?"

"It's the best thing."

"I see."

"No, you don't," John allowed, smiling slightly.

Aeryn turned to look at him, reaching for his trousers on the table. "You want these back now?" she asked with a smile.

"Ooooh yeah," he said eagerly, walking over and putting his hand out for them. She snatched them back.

"First," she said clearly, "you tell me how good I was."

"What?"

"My little performance."

John stared. He calculated. His sub-conscious jumped up and smacked his gullibility over the head several times. "What? No! That was all an act?"

"Couldn't you tell?" she smiled.

"No! Dammit Aeryn, I was _crapping_ myself!" he accused. "Don't ever do that to me again!"

"Then you stop gambling with that little toe, and--"

"Toad."

"--toad and we won't _have_ to do this again. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he blinked, before smiling slightly and looking at his feet. She watched him, lost. He looked up again, walking closer, ostensibly to reach for his trousers in her hand. "Thanks," he said gently.

"For which part of my amazing plan?"

"You ah… You really came through for me, and… and you got my stuff - and D'Argo's stuff - back. And you did it so well," he managed with unexpected warmth.

Just for a moment, she let her grin widen, basking in the glow of his appreciation.

"Well then," she said briskly, letting the hand with the trousers in it drop behind her.

"Well then," he allowed.

"You do realise that the moon's shine in that barrel is now mine?"

"What?"

"I just won it - Zhaan said so."

"Well yeah, but--"

"And so are your pants."

"C'mon, Aeryn, hand them over."

"No. They're mine," she said simply. "And now we're going to finish that barrel of gut-rot and you're going to destroy the recipe."

"Awww, Aeryn! It took me _arns_ to get that right!"

"Exactly. We drink the barrel dry, job done."

"You and me?" he havered.

"You and me."

"Uh… ok," he shrugged. "You know I can drain the tanks from an aircraft carrier of beer, right?"

"I can burp my own name," she challenged.

"Now that _is_ attractive," he laughed.

She turned and walked for the door, John hurrying to catch up. "Aeryn? My pants?" he prompted.

"No. They're mine."

"No really, Aeryn--"

"I'll play you for them."

"You want to play that circle card game thing for them?"

"Yes."

"But I have to be the worst player in the Uncharted Territories!"

"In that case," she said, stopping at the door and lifting the trousers and her chin with an imperious flick, "we'll play the strip version."

.

**FIN**

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_Yes, another Warren Zevon title as a chapter title. Exactly as it appears on the album 'The Wind'._

'_Disorder in the house! There's a flaw in the system, and the fly in the ointment's gonna bring the whole thing down… I just got my paycheck, I'm gonna paint the whole town grey, whether it's a night in Paris or a Fresno matinee…'_

**Thanks for reading. It was my first Farscape fic, but it won't be my last. I promise the next one will be better.**


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